


My Gallagher

by uptownwarblerr5



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Feels, Fluff, Gallavich, Hurt Ian, Light Smut, M/M, Protective Mickey Milkovich, Protective!Mickey, hurt!Ian, i mean there's a handjob but thats it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-19 07:22:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11308518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uptownwarblerr5/pseuds/uptownwarblerr5
Summary: The younger boy looked utterly defeated, and Mickey didn’t know what to do. So, he did the only thing he could think of – he wrapped his arms around Ian, pulled the redhead into his chest, and let him cry it out





	My Gallagher

Mickey rolled his eyes as his phone rang, frowning when he didn’t recognise the number. He answered anyway, more curious to know who the fuck had his phone number than anything else.

“Who the fuck is this?”

A distinctive voice came immediately from the other end of the line. “Lip. Lip Gallagher.”

“What the fuck do you want?”

“Look, I know you rely on this whole tough guy thing, but just fucking cut it out for one second. It’s Ian. He came home and he hasn’t spoken to anyone and he keeps telling us all to fuck off.”

“What’s that got to do with me?” Mickey asked, trying not to sound too concerned.

“You need to come and talk to him. As gay as this sounds, you’re the only one I can think of that he’ll talk to.” Lip paused. “No one’s home, just me and Ian. I’ll stay out of the way, you just have to come and talk to him.”

“Fine. I’ll come and talk to him.”

“Thanks, Mickey.”

“Whatever.”

***

Lip looked up as Mickey walked through the back door, a little surprised that he actually came.

“Where is he?”

“Upstairs.” Lip pointed, watching as Mickey made his way up the staircase and out of sight. Mickey walked up to Ian’s bedroom door, pushing it open and peering into the room. Ian was lying on his back on the bed, hands folded over his abdomen. Mickey walked in, shutting the door behind him before seating himself on the edge of Ian’s bed.

“Yo, firecrotch. Your brother said you were bein’ all quiet and shit.”

Ian didn’t respond, didn’t even move.

Mickey nudged Ian’s shoulder. “Uh, hello? Are you fuckin’ deaf or what?”

When Ian continued to be unresponsive, Mickey frowned. “You gonna say somethin’?”

He watched Ian intently for any kind of response, only just catching the redhead’s bottom lip quiver. “You ain’t gonna start cryin’, are ya?”

Ian rolled onto his side, away from Mickey, as tears began to well up in his eyes.

“Ah, christ. What’s fuckin wrong?”

Ian’s answer finally came, so quiet it was nearly inaudible. “Bad day.”

“I assumed as much. Wanna talk about it or somethin’?”

Ian shook his head, rolling back over onto his back and finally looking at Mickey. Mickey was – although he would never say it out loud – concerned about just how broken Ian looked. The younger boy looked utterly defeated, and Mickey didn’t know what to do. So, he did the only thing he could think of – he wrapped his arms around Ian, pulled the redhead into his chest, and let him cry it out. Ian’s arms went around him immediately, the Gallagher boy holding onto him like an anchor. Mickey adjusted himself so he was propped against the headboard of Ian’s bed, said boy laying between his legs, ginger head against his chest. Mickey didn’t know how long they were there for, and he didn’t give a fuck. Ian needed someone, and he sure as shit wasn’t letting anyone else take care of _his_ Gallagher. He was just starting to get tired when Ian moved, sitting up in Mickey’s lap.

Mickey raised his eyebrow. “You done, firecrotch?”

“Mickey, please,” Ian whispered, “don’t be _that guy_ , not now.”

Mickey rubbed Ian’s back, focusing on the redhead’s breathing. “What do you need?”

“I – can I touch you?” Ian asked, playing with a loose string from the hem of his shirt.

“You always touch me. Why the fuck are ya askin’ permission?”

“Mickey, _please_ ,” Ian repeated, “I need to go at my own pace today.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure thing fire – Ian.” Mickey corrected himself.

The correction seemed to brighten up Ian for a fraction of a second, making Mickey’s heart flutter (he was never going to admit that, either). Ian shuffled back on Mickey’s legs, slowly undoing the older boy’s pants. He pulled out Mickey’s cock, beginning to stroke it softly. It didn’t take long at all for Mickey to get hard, which made Ian proud. He leant down and pressed a kiss to the end of Mickey’s erection, looking up at the brunette through long eyelashes as he let his mouth go further down. He began to move his head up and down, humming happily when Mickey’s hand stroked his head affectionately, coming to rest at the base of his neck. Ian was half expecting Mickey to push his head down further, but it didn’t happen. Ian had never really seen this side of Mickey before, but he certainly wasn’t complaining. He continued his work, allowing his tongue to trace patterns up and down Mickey’s shaft, using pressure where he knew Mickey liked it most. He felt Mickey’s legs tense up underneath him, a tell-tale sign that the older boy was getting close. Ian brought one of his hands up, wrapping it around the base of Mickey’s cock. He began to stroke what he couldn’t reach with his mouth, and it was only a few more seconds until Mickey released into Ian’s mouth, moaning quietly. Ian happily lapped up all that Mickey gave to him, pulling off the brunette’s softening length and quickly tucking it back into his pants. He then crawled back up so he was laying against Mickey’s chest again, sighing happily as Mickey continued to stroke his head.

“So, do you want to talk about your day?” Mickey asked, evidently not used to asking the question.

Ian lifted his head to look at Mickey, unsure if he’d heard right. “You’d let me?”

“I – yeah. I mean, you’re obviously feeling like shit. I’m the last person that’s gonna run an’ tell people.”

“Do you really care?”

Mickey heard himself answer before he’d even started to think. “About the day? Not really. About you? Yeah.”

Ian inhaled sharply, looking at Mickey intently for any sign of a lie. There wasn’t one. “You care about me?”

“I – uh… I guess you aren’t too bad.” Mickey shifted uncomfortably. “Maybe I should get going.” He began to sit up, freezing when Ian spoke again.

“Please don’t leave me.”

Mickey looked down at Ian, his heart breaking just a little. Ian was clinging to Mickey’s shirt like a lost puppy, looking up at him with pure emotion. Mickey went back to his original position, pulling Ian close. “I won’t leave you.” Mickey gathered up some courage before he continued. “And Ian?”

“Yeah Mickey?”

“I do care about you.”

“I care about you too, Mickey. A lot.” Ian’s face dropped, making Mickey frown.

“What is it? Don’t ya want me to care about ya?”

“No, I want you to care about me, I do. It’s just…” Ian trailed off, unsure of how to continue.

“It’s just what?”

“I don’t know why you would. Only my family cares about me, and that’s just because I’m family. Some of them don’t even care about me at all. I’m just me. Plain old, never-good-enough, Ian Gallagher.”

“Don’t fuckin talk about yourself like that, a’ight?” Mickey said angrily, making Ian look at him in confusion. “You’re better than any of those other fuckin Gallagher’s. Anyone that doesn’t appreciate you can fuck off. I ain’t gonna let nobody make my Gallagher feel like shit.”

Ian beamed at that, pushing himself up so he and Mickey were at face-level. “I’m your Gallagher?”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Yes you’re my fuckin Gallagher, who else? Frank? I don’t fuckin think so. From now on, you ain’t gonna take anyone’s shit.”

“Really? You’d do that?”

“Yeah. No offense, but ya don’t seem that good at defending yourself. I gotta take care of ya.”

“God, Mickey, I love y -” Ian froze, his body going rigid. “Oh god. Oh no.” Ian began to frantically whisper to himself, only stopping when Mickey’s hand covered his mouth. He slowly took his hand away, replacing it with his mouth. It wasn’t a kiss like any other they’d had before. Kissing was just in the build up to sex for them – it was never to show any kind of affection. Ian’s face was as red as his hair when Mickey pulled away, making the latter’s cheeks show some colour too.

“I love you, firecrotch.”

Ian slumped into Mickey’s chest, relief filling his body. “I love you too, Milkovich.”

 

 


End file.
